Tier 3+ Story 📜🎩 T H E ☆ M A G I C I A N - Act 39

Content (for the whole story): original content, w/w(?), asexuality/demisexuality, cryptid (?) pregnancy, nb(?)preg, sexual & kink awakening, stuffing, nausea, gender ambiguity, birth, transphobia, dysphoria, depression & suicidal thoughts, parental conflicts, use of alcohol and other drugs, demons, religions & mythology (diverse), cursing, belly focus

▶ Read all from the start
Part I Acts: 1-3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 l 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19
Part II Acts: 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 28½ | 29 | 30 | 30½ | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 

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T H E  ☆  M A G I C I A N

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Act 39

Mel

His eyes followed the disembodied directions and finally saw the source of the comments. In the darkness and behind all that paraphernalia hanging from the ceiling, he struggled to see, but a person lay there, on top of the shelves. He could only make out their silhouette, round glasses that reflected the light of the candles, and some golden metallic ornaments that flashed here and there. The way the person lay there, they looked relaxed, elegant, and maybe even a little furtive.

He instantly felt drawn to this person and their entire fascinating setup, and he even forgot about his discomfort from entering a stranger's apartment without permission.

“Look at the little bird that got lost in my den. You are one intriguingly handsome creature, I have to say,” the lounging individual commented as they ushered a long, flute-like item towards their mouth. Most likely a woman, Mel concluded by the sound of her voice and physical shape. When she lowered the small rod again, she exhaled smoke.

“I am inclined to return the compliment.” He had finally found his voice again.

It made her chuckle. The tone of her deep voice and the way she laughed ironically reminded him of Lusje.

“You think I am handsome? A rare compliment I hear. Yet you can’t even see me, my child.”

“Pulchritude can radiate from all sorts of places. The physical appearance you’re born with is one of the rather unimportant ones, I’d say,” he returned.

He wasn’t sure, but he thought he could sense her smile.

“Curiouser and curiouser.”

A quote Mel recognized from Alice in Wonderland. In the light of that context, the cupboard-dweller suddenly reminded him of a character from said book: The Cheshire Cat.

“So, what brings you to my lair, sweet one?”

Mel wanted to answer but then hesitated. Lusje was the reason he was here, but that damn snake apparently either fell asleep or didn’t simply care to give Mel any guidance.

He knew what he wanted, of course. He currently visited her because the demon said this was the way to find an agent for Mel.

But he couldn’t simply just ask that, right? It would feel a little inappropriate.

“You seem to be unsure about your visit. Or is it me, maybe, child? Do you fear me?”

“Yes,” Mel answered truthfully, sensing that, to her, such an answer was equal to a compliment. And it was meant as one for him as well, in a strange way. She was successfully eluding facial expressions, reducing body language to a bare minimum. Her lush, deep voice sounded prying and gracious, but also dangerous. He could not read her at all; the only things he could gather were that she knew how to present herself - or rather, to not present herself - and that she was a fortune teller, presumably.

She also could be a serial killer, who lured people into her unlocked death trap.

Or a like-minded devotee for all things mystical, just like Mel himself.

Her teeth flashed for a moment, allowing him a glimpse at her smile.

“Well then. It’s time to take a closer look at you, and, by doing so, you shall take one of me.”

In one smooth movement, as if she had done it a hundred times before, the woman slid down her elevated lounging spot, landed almost soundlessly on the carpet, and presented herself in the dim yet sufficient candle lights.

Her appearance took Mel’s breath away, for several reasons.

First, she was taller than him; he had never met a woman that he had to look up to.

Second, her tight, black top clearly revealed that she was visibly very pregnant.

Last, and most important, she was the most beautiful human he had ever laid eyes upon. Now, he felt stupid for saying that physical appearance wasn’t important to him because hers had such an impact that it literally overwhelmed him. Her beauty was captivating, intriguing, dangerous, even divine. He fought the instinctive need to bow his head before her.

Her hair was braided in delicate cornrows, arranged in such a way that they guided to two plaits tied on the top of her head, from which her hair cascaded down in long, black strands over her shoulders and down to her hips. Her braids were ornamented with golden beads here and then, like a waterfall in autumn that rinsed leaves down in its path.

Over her simple black tanktop, she wore a thin, colorful cardigan that displayed shapes which reminded Mel of mandalas. Her legs were covered by loose black harem pants. She wore no shoes, but instead a pair of gold ankle bracelets that connected to her toes via a small golden chain. Her arms and fingers were covered in golden spruce, too, which stood in stark contrast to a skin tone that was almost as dark as Mel’s hair.

On her face sat large, round golden glasses, so large that other people would have looked comedic with them. For her they had the opposite effect; they only added to her elegance.

Behind the glasses rested a pair of captivating, observant eyes, highlighted by long, streaking eyeliner and a dash of golden eyeshadow at the inner part of her lids.

She looked at him analytically, and her gaze felt both derogatory and favorable to Mel.

After she studied him thoroughly, slowly pacing around him and observing him like an open book, she finally spoke up. “Very interesting.” Her eyes were so piercing, he could almost feel her gaze touching him, like his hair and his arms. She cast a long look over his chest, and an even longer look grazed over his lower belly. He didn’t dare to speak, so he just let her do as she pleased. As she walked around him, he could still feel her eyes on him; it really was like a physical touch.

“A strong back. Your young body carries too many burdens,” he heard her say, more to herself than to anyone else, while stroking the tip of her finger over his shoulders. Had she actuall ybeen touching him all this time? The switch from observation to physical contact had happened so seamlessly that he couldn’t tell.

“Both shy and fierce, strong and soft, man and woman. Full of revulsion for their body, yet a ripening fruit, growing life in their womb.” She stroked the same fingertip over the ever so slight curver of his belly. Normally, with everyone else but Lusje, he would have eluded the touch; she, however, made him feel like he owed his body to her, as if she ruled over him without question.

Once she made a full orbit around him, she came closer and stared directly into his eyes, as if offering him a glimpse into her soul, too. Her glance eluded any description. It whispered promises of mysticism, love, pleasure and safety, a glance that would’ve made both kings and queens bend a knee in utter devotion and could’ve ended or wars. Or start them. With eyes as red as a birthing sun.

“A very enchanting soul you have, my child. Everything about you pleases me. My kittens like you, too.”

Her words released whatever spell she held over him, and he could finally look around; only now did he notice a couple of black cats that brushed against his legs, purring approvingly. When he looked around he saw more and more cats - so many, in fact, that he couldn’t count them. What an impressive conjuring. It gifted him goosebumps.

Her touch returned his attention back to her. She drew in closer, her belly now brushing against him, too. He had always been indifferent towards pregnancy in others, but it was different with her; the sensation made him tense and excited. Her touch led him to want to experience more of her, to lay in her motherly arms, but also to do anything to please her. These foreign thoughts he had never experienced before frightened him.

“I would love to see more. Feel more. But you did not come to me to give - you did come to receive, of course. I will give you what you need, lost one. But I shall receive, too.”

He had heard words like this before, just a couple of weeks prior.

Though, maybe she just had a unique way of talking about actual monetary payment.

“Please, take a seat. I will take you as a client.”

Mel found himself obeying blindly, sitting down, as the purring cats circled his legs and jumped onto both the backrest and his lap.

Instead of sitting in the chair opposite him, the woman sat casually, directly on the table. Her thigh laid sideways on the surface, while the other leg still somewhat standing. She was so close …

She led the stick, which was actually some sort of pipe of maybe ancient asian origin,- to her mouth and took another deep breath, while she calmly continued to observe him.

“I see that I don’t have to prove my skills to you anymore, Melchior, for you are already utterly devoted. You are of my kind, child. Some people see me as an old witch - non-believers, those who shy away from anything and everything mystical. But I can see in your eyes and hear in your unspoken words that you see me as I truly am. We’re connected in spirit, so I gladly offer my help.”

He couldn’t remember telling her his name – or maybe he could, but he didn’t care either way.

“I presume you already feel what I am, don’t you?”

“Are you… not human?”

Her old, knowing eyes looked deep into his. Then, as if directly answering his question, she responded, “My name is Bastet, child of mine.”

▶️ NEXT CHAPTER 

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Story written by RoseVirage
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